Chapter Seven

Katanes, Baron's Palace

Arta ducked under the practice sword's swing and stumbled backwards, holding her own blade in front of her as a guard. Karani smiled wickedly beneath her visor and pressed forward, trying to keep her sister off balance. She was taller, stronger, and had the longer reach, but Arta was faster and had become adept at avoiding being hit, so the match was not as one sided as it might at first have seemed.

Karani's sword shot forward again, but Arta managed to spin aside, leaving it to cleave nothing but air. Her foster-sister scowled as she managed to duck behind her; the older girl just barely got her position adjusted in time to block Arta's thrust. They stood deadlocked for a moment, straining against each other, but here Karani's height was an advantage and she managed to force her sister slowly back. With a twist of her wrist Arta managed to disengage, but before she could strike back Karani came back in hard, knocking the blade from her hands and then sending her sprawling on her back with a well-placed kick.

"You win," Arta muttered as she pulled her helmet off. "What was that last part for, anyway?"

"It was for terrifying us all when you disappeared for hours the other day," said Karani. "Call it payback." She reached down and helped Arta to her feet. "But you did good today, little sister."

"You still won," Arta muttered, rubbing her side. "I could have done better."

Karani grinned. "Yeah, but you made me work harder than I had to before. All that late-night training seems to be paying off, so don't feel bad. You'll get me one of these days." She held up her practice sword in front of her. "Want to go again? Maybe it'll be today."

The sound of the practice room's door opening distracted both sisters; they turned to face it just in time to see their father enter, flanked by Danash and… it was him. The Professor. His keen eyes swept the room, and when he saw Arta, he smiled kindly.

"Girls," Varas said, "there's someone here I want to introduce to you both. This is Professor Shiran, an old acquaintance of mine and an expert in several scholarly and scientific fields. He has graciously agreed to take a position with us as your new tutor."

Karani rolled her eyes. "We're not ten," she said. "Do we really need a new tutor at our age, Father?"

Arta touched her foster-sister's arm. "Don't be flip," she whispered. "I met him the other day, when I 'disappeared for hours', if you'll remember. I don't know what it is about him, exactly, but he seemed… different from anyone I'd ever met. Try to be a little more respectful."

"You met him?" Karani whispered back, eyes wide. The Baron regarded his biological daughter crossly, but the Professor merely smiled.

"Yes," he said. "She did. Young Miss Arta and I had quite a pleasant conversation in the mountains, in fact. And I also have excellent hearing, so next time you wish to have a conversation about me without my overhearing, please remember to do it when I'm not standing less than ten feet away."

Shiran's pleasant smile never left his face as he spoke, but Karani's face turned bright red, nonetheless. "I'm sorry," she said, making a visible effort to be more respectful. "What will you be teaching us, Professor?"

His eyes flitted to the sword in Karani's hand. "Well," he said, "it seems you have swordsmanship well in hand – which is fitting, as it's an important skill for young people of rank, and also fortunate, as I have no particular expertise in the area myself. My particular interests lie in history and philosophy, and therefore that is what I intend to cover with you both in the most detail. I can assume that you've already had at least basic instruction in most areas, based on what your father has told me; that's not why I'm here. My job isn't to quiz you on mathematics, test your knowledge of spacecraft, or to make certain you know the exact date of Artax the Founder's birth. I'm more interested in teaching you to think and apply the knowledge of the past to the problems of the present and to help you develop into the leaders that this barony – and this kingdom – needs."

Karani wilted slightly at this description; she'd driven most of their previous tutors to distraction and more than one had quit because of it, complaining that the baronial heir was a very gifted girl who could excel at anything she cared to if only she bothered putting more than a token effort into anything that didn't involve sword fighting or styling her hair. Arta knew that her foster-sister would rather do things than spend hours reading about other people doing things. She herself, however, gave a polite bow in Shiran's direction.

"Thank you, Professor," she said. "We look forward to your teaching." She elbowed Karani in the side, and her foster-sister started and then duplicated the bow. Their father nodded approvingly at the gesture, though not without raising an eyebrow in Karani's direction; she shrugged.

The Professor seemed to notice Karani's look, and he smiled again. "Don't worry that I'll just have you poring over dusty old books in your father's library," he said. "In my experience, you can only learn to lead by experience, not by locking yourself away from everyone. I think you'll find a number of opportunities for more hands-on learning will present themselves before we're done."

"That sounds more like it," Karani muttered; Arta only shook her head and smiled affectionately.

"I've arranged quarters for the Professor in the main tower," Danash said, stepping forward. "He'll be moving in later today and should be ready to start lessons in a day or two."

/

The sisters had finished stowing their practice swords and changing back into their regular tunics, and were just leaving the changing room when Karani glanced around quickly to make sure no servants or mechs were nearby grabbed Arta by the arm and pulled her up against the wall.

"You seriously met that guy when you went flying the other day?" she asked. "And you didn't tell anyone about it? You didn't tell me about it? Since when did we keep secrets from each other, Arta?"

Arta shrugged. "I guess it didn't seem that important," she said. "If he was who he said he was – and it looks like he is – we were going to meet him officially before long, anyway, and…" She frowned. Why hadn't she said anything to Father or Karani? Had Shiran asked her not to, or… a sudden memory surfaced of a dark figure in a hooded cloak, standing in her bedroom… and then it vanished, like a snatch of a dream. She shook her head. "Why is it so important to you, anyway?"

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Karani's eyes widened and she let out a sharp breath. "Arta!" she said. "The other day, we nearly died. They still haven't caught whoever was behind it, you know. And then you just go haring off a whim into the middle of nowhere, where you just happen to meet a man who just happens to be getting ready to come work in our home? Lord, and they say I'm the one who makes bad decisions. Do you really think that was all a coincidence?"

"He said he doesn't believe in coincidences, actually," Arta said absently.

Karani stepped back and raised her arms toward the ceiling. "Oh, well he doesn't believe in coincidences, and that makes everything all right? Look, Arta, you know what I'm thinking? I think he's probably a spy for whoever sent those assassins, and maybe he's here to finish the job! Did you ever stop to think of that?"

"He's not the one," Arta said firmly, then frowned. She was positive Shiran had no connection to the assassins, but why? Again, memory flickered in her mind, and vanished when she tried to pin it down. "Besides, Father trusts him, doesn't he?"

"Well, maybe he's wrong," said Karani. "Or maybe this guy – whoever he is – killed the real Professor Shiran and took his clothes, used some technology to fake his appearance." She suddenly stopped and held a finger out in front of her. "That's it! He's a spy, and we're going to be the ones to find him out!"

Arta couldn't resist a short laugh. "You watch too many holos, big sister," she said.

"They're more fun than whatever the 'Professor' is going to be having us studying," Karani muttered. "I swear, if he tries to make me memorize all the monarchs of the Dozen Stars, and all the Emperors, and the priest-kings of the Alaelam Alliance like the last one did, I'm going to scream."

Arta grinned. "Your true motive is revealed," she said. "Any excuse to get out of studying, right?"

Karani returned the smile. "You know me so well," she said. "But I'm serious that something about this guy just doesn't sit right with me. Or maybe I just don't like the idea of my baby sister just happening to run into creepy old men in the mountains. Just promise me you'll be careful, okay?"

"If you'll promise to try and give him a fair chance," Arta said.

Karani hesitated, then put an arm around her foster-sister's shoulder. "Deal," she said.

"Deal," Arta confirmed.

/

The Professor watched calmly from the corner of his new room as the serving mechs brought in his boxes and left them on the floor; Varas had already provided furniture, so the Professor had mostly travelled lightly, bringing little more than personal effects he'd take out and set up himself later, rather than trusting to machines. Perhaps he was merely old-fashioned – and if anyone had a right to that attitude, he supposed he was the one – but he still found the quiet, emotionless efficiency of mechs to be unsettling. He always preferred to hire organic workmen, when he could; machines might be programmed for perfect efficiency, but they were incapable of taking pride in a job well done.

And then, of course, Shiran was one of the only living humans who had seen what those creatures could do when unleashed on a battlefield. Perhaps, he reflected, his distaste for them wasn't entirely irrational after all…

He felt a sudden buzz from his pocket, distracting him from his reflections. The Professor frowned – few people knew his personal comm number, and he hadn't been expecting a call today – and quietly removed himself into the large walk-in closet where he could talk in privacy. As he did so, he quietly laughed at himself for seeking privacy from unthinking machines – but then, old habits died hard.

Removing the comm from his pocket, he flipped it on and raised it to his lips; as he did so, he quietly frowned at the display screen, which didn't identify the caller. "Yes?" he asked. "Who am I speaking to?"

A low, feminine chuckle echoed from the other end. "Always so dramatic, old man," she said. "I heard you were on Katanes and thought I'd check in and see if it was true. What, no kind words for your favorite student? I'm heartbroken, Shiran."

The Professor frowned – at his age, there were few things left that could shock him, and he merely arched an eyebrow now, though he knew the person on the other end had no way to see it. "Midaia," he said quietly. "I thought I sensed a faint echo of your presence on this world. It's been a while since we've talked. I trust you're well?"

"Small talk doesn't count for much when I had to prompt you into it, Shiran," Midaia said, faint amusement evident in her voice. "And I did have a bit of business on Katanes not long ago; before you ask, I'm not on-world anymore, so don't bother looking for me. I don't want you in my affairs, and I doubt you want me meddling in yours."

"Your words imply that this isn't simply a social call," the Professor said drily, "and yet you want me to believe you aren't interested in my business? I'm afraid you're sending mixed signals, Midaia. I thought you'd learned logic better than that."

"I'm not here to make a deal, or dig into whatever you're up to, old man," Midaia said. "I just wanted to give you a warning. I know that you took a job as a tutor, and I know for who."

Despite himself, Shiran chuckled quietly. "You hacked yourself falsified clearance with the regent's intelligence service again, didn't you?" he asked. "You always were clever, child, but I'm afraid you're growing predictable."

"And you're not? That's rich," said Midaia. "But what I want to say is this – I met the girl. I know who she is. And while I don't care what happens to the older one, I won't stand for anyone to harm the younger. Not even you, old man."

"I assure you, I have absolutely no intention of harming Arta in any way," Shiran said. "I thought you knew me better than that, Midaia."

Cold laughter echoed from the other end of the comm. "Oh, you wouldn't hurt her directly," Midaia said. "You never hurt people directly. But you never worry about what happens to the ones who get caught up in your big schemes, either. You never bother to pick up the pieces when you're done. But I have a proprietary interest in that girl – you honestly think I couldn't tell she was my blood from one look at her face? – and she had best live a long and happy life, Shiran. Or else."

"Your threats are duly noted," the Professor said. "But I assure you that you're mistaken about me. I do care, deeply, about the Dozen Stars and everyone in it, and all that I have ever done is work for the good of its people. If only you understood what was at stake…"

"Care about the Kingdom, then," Midaia said. "I'll care about what happens to my half-sister. When are you going to tell Arta about who her biological family are, by the way? I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear it… probably angry that you kept it from her so long, though, what a pity…"

"I will tell her when she's ready to know," Shiran said rather stiffly. "I don't think she's quite ready yet to have that on her shoulders."

Midaia made no response, and at first Shiran wondered if the connection had gone dead, but then she spoke again. "And tell me this, you old scoundrel," she said. "Do you realize that this girl you're getting ready to take under your wing is a potential Adept? I thought I sensed it in her when I watched her from a distance and confirmed it when she deflected a blast with a beam rifle – untrained, with her bare hand. Are you willing to take that risk again?"

Shiran went still – he'd suspected, of course, but to know was something else entirely. "It's unsurprising," he said. "Your mother had the gift, though she was untrained, as, of course, do you. That Arta should inherit it was… not impossible."

"But it makes things more complicated, doesn't it?" Midaia whispered. "I made her forget, but she's going to realize what she can do sooner or later. She'll want a teacher, and you'll be in a bind. You don't want another me, do you? And I'm not the worst that can happen, as I’m sure you know. So, what do you do? Refuse, or take the risk?" She chuckled. "I'll be watching that with interest."

"Tell me honestly, Midaia," the Professor said, keeping himself calm with effort. "Why are you troubling me now? Is this still about denying you the throne all those years ago? You know full well the council would never have approved someone who'd been expelled from the holy sisters, with or without my influence."

"I don't want the throne," she said. "I never wanted it. Why would I subject myself to that idiocy, day in and day out? I'd run screaming in a month. No, strange as it may seem, I actually did want to protect Arta. You watch out for her your way, old man – I'll watch out for her in mine. I'll see you soon – watch for me, and you might even find me." The comm clicked and the connection went dead.

The Professor stood in the middle of the empty closet, mulling over the implications of that conversation, for a very long time.